Blue Blood
by Alice Nguyen
Summary: *This isn't related to any story.* Valery gets visit by ghosts all the time, it's like a daily routine, but when she runs into this ghost, claiming his family's in trouble, well...let's just say being a ghost whisperer can be insane as having blue blood.


**Hey guys, so this is a ghost story, and not to mention that I was in love with ghosts when I was a little kid. Anyway, after reading, please review. My goal is to have at least three reviews for the first chapter to continue. So R&R!**

Blue Blood

Chapter One: Who Are You?

"But you got to help me!" the stupid ghost kept hanging on me, while I was heading to class. "I need to know if my family's okay!" The ghost was already on my nerves. I headed into the restroom and waited until no one was inside but me and the ghost. "You got to-"

I cut him off, "Look little ghost, your problem can be hold off until after school."

"But I need to know if they're safe." I glared at him.

"It's your fault that you join a fucking gang!" I hissed at him. He looked taken aback and looked down at the tile floor in shame. I let out a breath. "Look, I'm sorry for hurting you, but I can't just skip school and go to a stranger's house and asked if they are okay, okay?"

The ghost nodded.

"I promise, after school," I said, and the ghost disappeared. I splashed cold water into my face. Great, if ghosts kept appearing at me and asking me for help in public places, I might as well be named a freak. I walked to class and met up with Carey. She knew about my 'ghosts' conditions and always joked around. I didn't like her being involved with ghosts that lingered around me. The last time she was involved, we both almost murdered from this serial killer.

"Hey, Val," she said. Val was short for Valery."Have any ghost news?" she joked, I rolled my eyes.

"Ugh, there was ghost recently keep insisting I go to his family's house to make sure that this gang hadn't hurt them." I told her. She smiled. I looked at her, in disgust. "Oh no, Carey, you're not getting involved in ghosts again. Remembered last time?"

"That was because we were dealing with a serial killer, this is just checking up on a family?" she said.

"But still," I said, not sure if this is a good idea.

"Come on, Val. I can take care of myself."

"Say that to the hospital," I smirked.

"Come on, Val! We were dealing with a serial killer that time!"

"Fine, but we're just checking up on the family, got it?" I glared at her. She nodded, excitedly. Somewhere in me kept saying that this is a bad idea, but I ignored it. It's Carey; I can never stop her from doing anything, even if it's life risking.

After school, Carey and I met up at my car. We got in: me in the driver's seat and Carey in the passenger seat. I pulled out my laptop from the backseat and searched up the ghost's family.

I remembered the ghost's name was Jonathan Loran. I typed it up and got a lot of criminal records.

"Ooooh," Carey cooed. I rolled my eyes. My dad and mom were both detectives, which made my job as a ghost whisperer useful. I read through the records. Jonathan was a gang member of Blue Blood. Blue Blood broke almost any law. They would import illegal drugs and would never let a drop-out member of the Blue Blood lived. "A killer, huh?" Carey leaned in, reading the records. I rolled my eyes. Then something caught me.

_Jonathan Loran was born in January 03, 1770 in New York City, NY. He was married to Elizabeth Morris. He soon was filed as a member of Blue Blood gang, which was soon disappeared out of sight. No case was held related to Blue Blood after Mr. Loran was hang from a seven-hundred meter building. Soon after his death, the Blue Blood was never in case. Jonathan had three sons: Michael, Elliot, and Jason. The family was recently living in 1567 Lake Hood Blvd. before the death of Jonathan Loran, in March 24, 1805 in Boston, Massachusetts. _

"I guess, we got a group of drug dealers in our hands, huh?' Carey mentioned. I glared at her.

"_I _got a group of drug dealers in _my_ hands," I corrected her. She rolled her eyes.

"Oh, come on!"

"No," I simply said.

"Fine, let's just check out the family," Carey said. Now it's my turn to roll my eyes. I started the engine and drove off to Jonathan's house. I told Carey to type in the address of the location into my GPS and continued reading through the criminal records of the Blue Blood gang. I wondered why they called themselves that.

While driving, I felt a cold air hit me.

Jonathan.

"You should be careful," he said. I smirked. Being careful was always my motto since I was five.

"Always am," I told him. Carey looked at me. It took her just a second to figure out that I was talking to a ghost. Carey was always freaked out of the idée of me randomly talking out, but she soon had gotten use to it.

"He's here, isn't he?" Carey asked. I nodded. I heard her sighed and continuing looking at the records.

"They're in trouble," Jonathan said.

"Just wait, I'm going to check it out," I told him and he disappeared. I hated when they disappeared without a trace. That always gives me the shivers. I pulled into the driveway of Jonathan's family house. Carey and I both got out of my black Mercedes. We reached the door, to be surprised that it was left opened. So Jonathan knew something, but he wanted me to check it out or stopped it for him. I looked at the door handle, which had bullet holes busting the knob.

"Shit," Carey hissed.

"Got that right," I said. I looked inside to see papers everywhere and furniture knocked over. I looked over at Carey. "Seems like Jonathan wanted me to stop something."

"Don't you think it's already too late?"

I shook my head, "If it's already too late, he wouldn't have told me to be careful. Carey, go back to the car and get me Lucky." Lucky wasn't human: she's my handgun. I knew that a senior shouldn't have a handgun, but since the serial killer accident, my dad think it's acceptable. Carey rushed towards and grabbed Lucy and handed it to me.. "Now, go back to the car and stay there until I get out." I ordered.

"You got to be fucking kidding me; I'm not leaving you alone," Carey argued. I glared at her. She let out a sigh and got my keys and headed towards the car. She stopped and then looked back at me. "What if you don't get back?" she asked, horror in her eyes. I just nodded, sternly.

"You know what to do, Carey." And with that I loaded Lucky and headed in, closing the door behind me. I was soon greeted into the dining room as I stepped into the house. There were glass pieces on the ground and I was glad that I was wearing glass high-heels to protect me from stepping on a shard. I held Lucky with two hands and looked around, alerted. I headed into the kitchen, there were dishes on the floor, shattered into pieces. And knife on the ground. I looked at the holes on the wall and knew it from anywhere. It were made from a similar handgun that Lucky was.

I saw pools of dark blood on the ground and I let out a ragged breath. Of how many times Dad and Mom let me see crime scene photos of pools of blood. I wasn't enjoying the sight. Then I felt footsteps behind me. I was about to turn around when the person grabbed me by the neck. I swung around quickly, sticking my left feet out to trip him over. He fell and I hit him with Lucky. The person came crashing down on the tiled floor of the kitchen. I noticed that it was a young man about my age. He was wearing all black. I stepped on his chest to keep him on the floor and pointed the gun at him. He raised his hands up, in surrender.

My eyes locked with his. His features were similar to Jonathan. I glared daggers at him.

"Who are you?" I snapped, still pointing the gun at him.

"Michael Loran, and who are you?"


End file.
